


Hogmanay

by SherlockRiverHekate



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 02:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30098622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockRiverHekate/pseuds/SherlockRiverHekate
Summary: There is an old Scottish tradition around the coming of the new year. Normally James would celebrate it at Skyfall, but this year that wasn't possible. Instead he gets to celebrate in a slightly different way.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

The weather was chilly and grey in London. James Bond stared morosely out the window of his apartment, a glass of good quality Scottish whiskey held loosely in his hand. The weather wasn’t what was causing his melancholy.   
It was two days before New Year’s Eve, the 29th of December to be precise. Once upon a time he had done everything in his power to be on a mission for the entirety of the holiday season. And if he couldn’t be out of the country, then he could found at any one of the upmarket bars in the city, but predominantly haunting Soho. However, the last few years had been different. New Year’s Eve had found him sitting by a roaring fireplace, the winds of the Scottish Highlands blowing outside the window. The first couple of years it had just been James and Kincaid holed up in the recently repaired Skyfall estate. The fireworks over the moors had been amazing to watch, far more mesmerising than anything he had seen in any other part of the world. In the last few years James had been accompanied by Q or Eve Moneypenny, or the both of them. It was nice sit and catch up and, more importantly, not see in the new year alone.   
This year, due to a global pandemic, James Bond had barely left the London. The lockdown that had been put in place meant that this year he was stuck in his own barely furnished apartment rather than travelling to his ancestral home in another part of the United Kingdom.   
James sighed and continued staring out the window. 

He was startled out of his morose contemplation by a noise from his phone, the lit screen cutting through the late afternoon gloom.   
Placing the half drunk and now slightly warm whiskey on the floor, he ambled up and took his phone from the counter.   
‘Go to this link at 7’ the message read. There was a website link in the text as well.   
Looking at the link, James smiled. Trust his Quartermaster to be looking after him, even during the holidays.  
James doubted that Q would be on holiday though. For the few days that he normally accompanied James to Skyfall, Q always had a work phone and laptop with him as well as his own personal devices. This year, unable to leave London, James had no doubt that his Quartermaster was still holed up in Vauxhall, working to all hours. James assumed he was monitoring the security of MI6, as well as mitigating other predominately online threats. There was no way that he was monitoring agents, as all agents not on deep cover missions had been directed to return home earlier in the year. With no commercial flights and restricted travel between not just continents but countries, even those that neighboured each other, it was difficult to hide an agent and their actions. Q branch had taken on a front line role, and some agents had opted to transfer to MI5 for the duration of the pandemic.   
Something that Q had said to him back when they first met at the National Gallery sprang to mind.   
“I can do more damage on my laptop sitting in my pyjamas before my first cup of Earl Grey, than you can do in a year in the field,” he had said. This year, that statement had held true. Hell, Q would have done more damage in that time that the entire 00 section in the field this year.   
After a moment’s thought, James replied to the message.   
‘Why don’t you join me?’  
He returned to where he had been seated, and picked up his glass. Making a face, he thought better of drinking the contents, and instead placed the entire glass in his fridge. He wasn’t going to waste good whiskey by pouring it down the sink, but he also wasn’t going to do it the injustice of drinking it warm.   
By the time that James had returned to his chair, his phone had one unread message.   
‘You know the rules, Bond.’  
James shook his head, perfectly imagining the arched eyebrow and prim reprimanding tone that would accompany that message.   
‘This is for work. Can’t have one of Her Majesty’s finest getting bored. Imagine what might happen.’  
James placed the phone back down, and looked back out the window. By this point the sun was almost set, and the stars had started to come out. If there was at least one thing that James could say about the whole lockdown, the lack of traffic and light pollution meant that the stars were far more easily visible to the naked eye. They weren’t as clear as from Skyfall, the unlit night made for a stunning show of stars scattered over the entire sky, but it was something at least.   
No reply came from his last message, but then again, James hadn’t really expected one. That didn’t stop him from checking if he had enough to make dinner for two, and ensuring there was plenty of water in the kettle.

The sun had well and truly set by the time James started on dinner. Nothing too complicated, just a hearty shepherd’s pie.   
He was pulling the dish out of the oven, when there came a knocking at his front door. Carefully, he placed the hot dish on the counter and then silently made his way to the door. Along the way he had picked up his Walther, and he now stood to the side of the door with the weapon raised.   
“It’s just me,” a voice called to him.   
On the other side of the door, James let out a breath and lowered his gun. Once it was safely tucked into the waist band of his trousers, he opened the door.   
“You never replied,” James commented as Q made his way further in to the apartment.   
“Moneypenny kicked me out of my own branch,” Q replied. “And despite my not replying, it appears you made dinner.”  
“I have to eat. It’s just lucky I made a large meal.”  
“And yet, the table is set for two.” Q observed.   
James chose not to comment on that, and instead walked into the kitchen and started pulling out plates.   
While he was doing that, Q had wandered over to the TV.   
“Do you have Wi-Fi?” he asked.  
“I think so,” James replied. “Most of the flat was set up by MI6 before I got here.”  
Q knew that meant that the flat did, indeed, have Wi-Fi. It also meant he had the access codes and could connect the smart television to the highly secure internet connection. 

Bond brought the food to the table, but he wandered over see what Q was doing.   
“Why are you messing with my television?”  
“I’m connecting the internet to it,” Q replied simply.   
“And you’re doing that, why?”  
“Because the link I sent you is going to go live in about,” he stopped to look at his watch, “five minutes and this screen is easier to watch it on that your phone or laptop. Especially if we are eating.” Q glanced at the table, noting that both seats had a line of sight to the screen.   
“Well, don’t take too long.” Bond sauntered back to the table.   
“I’ll be done in just a mo’,” Q responded, typing in the last passcode.   
The screen now displayed a web browser, where Q typed in Hogmanay Edinburgh. The first sight that came up was what he was after, and once he clicked on it a countdown timer appeared.   
“What is this?” Bond asked, pointing the TV with his spoon.   
“Most of the events for Hogmanay can’t go ahead this year, as you would know. So BBC Scotland has put together a drone light show. One video goes up today, another tomorrow and the last on New Year’s Eve.”  
James looked at him in interest.   
“I know it’s not much compared to the usual traditions, but that’s how everything has been this year.” Q shrugged.   
The screen stopped its count down and instead a shot of the Scottish country side, and some drones carrying lights filled the screen. Both men turned their attention to the screen, watching the drones lift into the air and start their sequence. 

“That was…” Q began, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. “Well choreographed and touching,” he decided.   
James smiled slightly at him. “That was stunning. A lovely tribute to the past.”  
Q looked at him curiously. “I didn’t think you were one to give much thought to your past.”  
James took a sip of his drink, stalling for a moment.   
“I wasn’t, but more recently I’ve realised that some things should be remembered.”  
Not his work past, James had decided, but his more distant past bore some commemorating. His time in the Navy, for instance. And going further back, his childhood spent at Skyfall and the traditions that came with the Scottish manor.   
“How’s Kincaid?” Q asked. “Are they doing alright for supplies at Skyfall?”  
He knew that James normally brought equipment and items with him that couldn’t be found in the township.   
“I sent my usual packages by an actual courier company in late November.” James told him. “And I sent some presents by mail a few weeks ago. But it’s the best I can do with London in harsh lockdown.” They both left it unsaid that anyone travelling from such a contaminated area was a risk to the old man’s health.

They sat in a comfortable silence while they finished their meal, the television having been switched to something that was playing quietly in the background. There was no noise coming from outside, the street below silent due to the lockdown.   
“You know,” Q began as James picked up their empty plates, “I hadn’t realised the extent of the lockdown until recently.”  
James raised an eyebrow at him.  
“I knew the restrictions put in place, of course,” he hurried to explain. “But working in Q branch, and then being chauffeured home when I finished my shift well after sun down, not a lot had actually changed for me. MI6 has put a ban on executive personnel using the tube, so I had to be dropped here. And there’s no one on the streets. No cars to create background noise, no sound of people going about their business. It’s eerie.”  
“I guess I hadn’t thought about it from that perspective,” James replied as he returned to the sitting room.   
“As soon as the international travel ban came in, everything changed for me,” James said. “For all the agents. We were pulled from the field with not much to do otherwise.”  
Q nodded. “It’s a shame that we can’t give the agents more to do,” he acknowledged. “As it is, most of the agency is working from home. Just Q branch and some security personnel are actually in Vauxhall now.”  
“Not even M?”  
Q laughed. “Both M and Miss Moneypenny are working from home. Eve is impressed with her lightened workload, not having to book and attend meetings with M.”  
“I’ll bet she is,” James agreed with a smile.   
“Couldn’t most of Q branch work from homes as well?” James asked a moment later.   
Q shook his head.   
“Tea?” James asked.  
Q nodded and launched into an explanation.  
“While most of the branch uses tablets and laptops, they aren’t actually as portable as they seem. They can move around MI6 freely, but they’re programmed to lock the user out, and after three attempts then wipe the hard drive, if they aren’t connected to the internal network. That way any information on them can’t be accessed should the device fall into the wrong hands. And while all my minions obviously have their own very secure technology, it’s not secure enough to be able to do work outside of MI6. The last thing anyone wants is confidential information in the wrong hands that could compromise a mission or an agent.”  
James returned with a cup of earl grey and his own cup of green tea.   
“So how are they getting around the possible infections from public transport?”  
Q sighed. “For a while everyone was wearing masks and gloves, then binning those when they were checked through security and sanitising their hands before entry. But now it’s mostly carpooling and shuttle buses. A few of the junior agents have volunteered to be glorified taxi drivers.”  
James pursed his lips in thought.   
“Is that position only for junior agents, or can 00’s apply too?”  
“That bored, already?”  
James’ look answered that question for Q.   
“I’d have to run it past M, but it’s possible he’ll accept. Just a warning, he might use you as chauffeur for all the meetings he has to attend in person. “  
“Better than being stuck here,” James responded, gesturing around him.


	2. Chapter 2

It was midday, and James was in the middle of his third at home work out when his phone notified him of a message.   
Standing up from the last squat, he picked it up to see a message that wasn’t signed off.   
‘M agreed. Come into work at 1830. Bring Indian.’  
James placed the phone down and went back to his workout. The person who had sent the message wasn’t expecting a reply.   
While he finished the circuit, James wondered which curry was Q’s favourite. 

Normally it would take James about an hour to get from his apartment to MI6, forty minutes if he had good traffic (which Q usually had a hand in). But with virtually no cars on the road, James didn’t think it wold take him more than twenty.   
There was a notification waiting on his phone when James stepped out of the shower. Again the sender hadn’t signed their name, and it was yet another number. Despite this, James knew that it had been sent by Q again. This time there was a document attachment, an electronic travel exemption in the name of James Bond to travel between his home suburb and Vauxhall. James thought that these things normally had a home address and a work address, rather than a suburb. James was also under the impression that travel exemptions weren’t normally signed off by Queen Elizabeth II herself. 

At twenty minutes past six pm James went through then employee entrance to MI6, juggling his ID badge in one hand and a bag of Indian takeaway in the other. After he swiped his badge, binned the mask he had been wearing and made for the elevator. He had opted to keep the gloves on until he was able to disinfect all the takeaway containers.  
It was right on six thirty pm when James Bond stepped out of the elevator and into Q branch. While it wasn’t as busy as it normally was, night shift had just begun and there no agents in the field to monitor, there were still people at most desks. He looked around for Q, unable to see the unruly black hair amongst his colleagues.   
“007, Q said to tell you that he’s in his office,” someone told him.   
James nodded and turned towards Q’s office, noting the windows were frosted over.   
He rapped on the door twice, and there was a noise of confirmation, so James entered.   
Q was typing on his laptop, and looked up when he heard James’ footsteps.  
“Glad to see you, Bond.” Q shut down the computer and stood up.   
“I brought the food you requested,” he replied, lifting the bag in a gloved hand. “Can I ask why?”  
“Oh for goodness sake. Take the gloves off.” Q told him. “Here are wipes.” He added, pointing to the edge of his desk.   
Bond complied, putting the wipes and gloves in the bin when he was done and repackaging the food.   
“Again, Q. Why am I here?”  
Q took his coat from by the door, and then gestured for James to follow.   
“I thought that this might be a nicer way to watch today’s video,” Q told him as they entered an empty room usually used for weapons testing.   
The walls were bare and painted white, as was the ceiling. As James looked around he could see two projectors connected to devices. There was also a pile of blankets and cushions heaped haphazardly in the middle of the floor. Next to them was a stack of plates and what looked like cutlery.   
“Isn’t this considered improper use of MI6 equipment, Q?” James asked cheekily.   
“No less improper than half the things you do,” Q countered.   
“The room was empty and I’ve clocked off for the day,” Q sighed. “I do need you to sign some paperwork before you leave though. This was just an easier way of getting it all done.”  
He walked over to the pile, flicking an app open on his phone. The lights in the room dimmed and the projector pointed at the ceiling came to life. Suddenly a video of the night sky was displayed above them.   
"It’s not the sky over Skyfall, but it is a video from Scotland,” Q told James as he settled himself on the cushions and tucked a blanket around his legs.   
James followed suit, placing the food down beside the crockery for the moment.   
“The Dark Sky Park?”  
Q nodded. “The other projector will display today’s Hogmanay video when it goes up in,” he checked his watch, “about fifteen minutes.”  
They settled in and James passed a plates and cutlery across.   
“I didn’t know what you liked, so I made a guess.” He opened up the bag and named each container as he took them out.   
“Cheese and garlic naan. Vegetable samosas. Mango chicken curry. Lamb Korma. Jasmine rice.”  
Q nodded.   
“Good choice. I’m partial to a samosa and any lamb curry, personally.”  
James smiled. “Good to know my training in reading people can still be of some use.”  
“You’ll get out in the field again soon enough, Bond. Enjoy the paid holiday while it lasts.” He picked up the container of samosas and took a couple out. 

They had the curry and rice dished out onto plates and the samosas finished by the time that the video started.   
Today’s video was about the present, and how everything that went on this year had shaped and changed their lives. The drones, while filmed in the vast expanse of the highlands, had been superimposed over a video of Edinburgh.   
Once it was finished, the video changed to the firework performance that had been done in honour of the healthcare workers in the United Kingdom. 

“Q, won’t your minions be wondering what you’re up to in a darkened room with me? People will talk.” James said, taking the empty plate from the other man.   
“People do little else,” Q responded. “MI6 is just as bad as any other workplace when it comes to rumours. But to answer your question, no. Some of them helped me set up the projectors and the links to the devices. The same videos were displayed in the branch, and the door to this room isn’t locked.”  
“You really do think of everything, Q.”  
“I’m head of Q branch, and I run missions and outfit the 00 program. I rather think it’s a job requirement.”  
They stood up and Q began collecting and folding cushions and blankets.   
“The last video will be up tomorrow, as it’s actually Hogmanay, won’t it?” James asked.   
“Yes. Unfortunately this room is in use tomorrow. And I will be here until about 11pm.” Q responded.   
“That’s no problem. You left my TV connected to the internet.” James told him. “Come over when you are done. I’m thinking of inviting Eve as well.” James shrugged.  
He picked up the take out rubbish, while Q bundled everything else into a bag.   
“That sounds like a nice plan. I’ll let you know when I leave here.” Q told him.  
James put the rubbish in the bin as they walked back through Q branch. He could hear someone humming a tune, one that he recognised as traditionally being played on a bagpipe.   
“Before you go, 007,” Q called his attention back. “You need to sign these forms. Then your permit will be valid for a few more places than home and here.”


	3. Chapter 3

James had spent the New Year’s Eve Thursday not doing a lot. He had ordered some groceries, having decided on cooking that night’s meal himself, and he did a perfunctory clean of the flat. It didn’t take long, considering how little there was in the flat to clean in the first place.   
James had chosen a slow cooked stew for dinner, so that spent the afternoon cooking on its own, leaving James at a loss as to how he would spend the time before Moneypenny arrived. He finally decided to read one of the paperback novels that decorated his shelf. Whether he had bought it himself or it had been placed there by the MI6 moving crew was anybody’s guess. 

The book was entertaining enough, and before James had quite realised how much time had passed, the timer for the oven went off.   
The sunlight that had been filtering in had diminished to the point that he had to turn the lights on to see kitchen enough to work on the rest of the meal.   
He had contemplated getting some fancy champagne to go with dinner, or even finding the old cocktail book Felix Leiter had given him once (so that he’d order something different to a martini every time they met), but in the end James settled on a nice bottle of red that would complement the stew nicely. And despite red wine not pairing with dessert, this one had chocolate and plum notes so it wouldn’t clash horribly with the pudding. After all, James knew that it was just as likely that Q would be eating dinner while they were having dessert. He just hoped that whatever Moneypenny was bringing would work just as well with the wine; he had bought two bottles for them to drink after all. 

Moneypenny turned up at seven pm on the dot. She was, as usual, dressed impeccably; but rather than in tailored pants or skirts, she wore a pair of chinos and a chunky woollen jumper.   
“Happy New Year,” She said as she walked through the door. “I brought these.”  
She passed a cooler bag with cheese, crackers, dips and a small array of preserved meats across to him.   
“Happy New Year to you too, Eve,” James replied as he took her offering. He glanced over it and smiled. “The wine will go quite nicely with these too.”  
“I’m glad. Thought that might give us something to nibble on before we eat. It’ll be quite a while before Q can join us.”  
They walked into the sitting room.   
“He did say we may as well eat without him, so long as I leave him some dessert,” James told her. “His shift won’t end until eleven,” he added. Though Eve probably already knew this, as she had access to most of the rosters from MI6.   
She scoffed. “That’s if he doesn’t get called in for the mess in Argentina.”  
James raised an eyebrow. Eve motioned for the wine and they sat down with a glass each while she caught him up on the situation.

They made it until 8.30 and then decided that they would eat dinner. The television had been broadcasting a BBC New Year’s Eve special, and they had been talking about MI6’s involvement in a lot of the headlines that were being recapped for the year.   
“It’s strange for it to be so quiet outside on an evening like tonight,” Eve commented.   
“This whole place is too quiet for my liking,” James grumbled. “I can hear everything, which is good. But it also means other people can hear everything I’m doing.”  
The spy balked at the idea that he wasn’t able to keep his movements as hidden amongst the general noise and movement of the public as he was used to.   
“That would explain the notification I received stating that 007 was now on the rotating roster for MI6 drivers.” Eve looked at him over the rim of her glass.   
“Do you think I could get you as my driver, James? Complete with the Aston?” she asked cheekily.  
He gave her a half smile. “Maybe if you ask really nicely.”  
They ate in companionable silence while they finished the stew. There was a brief discussion over having the pudding now versus waiting a bit longer, but in the end they opted to wait. They had at least until midnight after all, and Q wasn’t expected for another hour and a half. 

“Are you doing a saining this year?” Eve asked James as they sat on the couch.   
He shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be possible, or sensible. This place is rigged up with that many fire alarms and other sensors that I’m sure the Juniper smoke would trigger them all and have half of London’s emergency services here in an instant.”  
Eve pouted. “That is a shame. I rather enjoy being the ‘woman of the house’ that gets to administer the restorative whiskey.”  
“It’s my whiskey you use! It’s not like you bring your own,” James reminded her.   
She smirked. “Why else do you think I like it so much? You have good taste, James. “  
“I’m sure Q would have found the water from a living and dead ford for you.” She added.  
James scoffed. “The Thames probably qualifies,” he reminded her.   
She shrugged but nodded in agreement. Then her eyes lit up and she rushed to her bag.   
“I can’t believe I forgot when I came in.” She walked back over with something in her hands, which she shoved at James.   
“This is for you. I hunted halfway around London to find it, but here.”  
It was a wrapped log that smelt strongly of fruit. James unwrapped the parcel to find a black bun inside.   
“Thank you.” He looked at her and nodded.  
Eve shrugged and sat back down. “It’s hard to find Black bun in London during a lockdown. And I know that it’s mostly St Andrews that celebrates Hogmanay with this, but when we were at Skyfall last Kincaid had some on the table.”  
James placed it on the kitchen bench.   
“I do appreciate it,” he told her. “We can cut it when Q gets here.”  
The black bun was at least one Hogmanay tradition that he could keep, despite some of the others being more difficult this year. 

It was about ten past ten when Eve received a message. Her face fell as she read it.   
“It’s from Q,” she told James. “He has been caught up in the mess in Argentina and he won’t be out until much later. He doesn’t think he will make it, and wants us to eat dessert without him.”  
James kept the expression on his face neutral, but he felt disappointed regardless.   
“Well, tell Q that he’s welcome here whenever he finishes. I doubt he has any food at home, and there are plenty of leftovers,” James settled on telling Eve. She nodded, and her fingers flew across the phone as she replied. 

After dessert, James switched the television over to the internet. Together he and Eve watched the final instalment from BBC Scotland for Hogmanay. This one was focussing on the future, and the hope that things would be better in the coming year.   
After that video was finished, Eve took the remote and she found a video that the BBC had uploaded of a live performance of Auld Lange Syn.   
“How come you don’t have those pretty sharp cheekbones, James?” Eve teased.  
The spy threw a napkin at her. “I think I’ll leave the startling cheek bones to you and Q. I don’t need to stand out too much going under cover.”  
They switched between videos until nearly midnight, when they found the around the world sweep and watched how other cities had welcomed in the New Year.   
Just before midnight, James quickly made his way into the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding three glasses of champagne. He passed one to Eve, kept one for himself and placed the third on the coffee table.   
As the seconds counted down to midnight, they counted along with the rest of London. They were aware that things wouldn’t magically change at midnight when the current year rolled into another one, but it was a nice thought to put everything behind them and have hope for the year that was coming.   
When the clock struck midnight, James and Eve raised their glasses in a toast.   
“To a new year,” James said.   
“May it hold more hope than the last one,” Eve added.   
They tapped their glasses and drank.   
It was then that they heard a knocking at the front door.   
James carefully placed his glass down and procured his Walther from somewhere. Eve also placed her glass down and took a hair clip from her hair, which on further inspection doubled as a throwing knife.   
James cautiously walked to the door, but before he could get halfway there a voice called out.   
“Bond, let me in. I’m tired, cold and hungry.”  
Eve barked out a laugh and James let Q in through the front door.   
“You should have let Eve know you were coming,” he said as Q collapsed on the couch.   
“I didn’t want to jinx it,” Q replied. He looked at the full glass sitting on the table. Eve tilted her chin at him and he picked it up.   
“Cheers.” Q lifted the glass in salute. 

As Q was finishing his stew, and James had placed a warm bowl of chocolate pudding on the table for him, Eve spoke up.   
“You know, James. Q came just after midnight, which means he was your first visitor for the year.”  
Q snorted. “I was your first foot. I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not.”  
James laughed. “Well, you fit the brief. It’s preferred that first foot is a tall dark haired man. Though, you are supposed to come bearing a gift for luck.”  
Q reached into his messenger bag. After digging around for a while he held something out in triumph.   
“This should do.” He passed a across a small slightly crumpled packet of shortbread.   
Eve shook her head. “You really do live on tea and biscuits, don’t you?”  
James took them and then placed the opened packet on the table for everyone to share.   
“By the way, you said a tall dark haired man is preferred. Why’s that?” Eve asked.   
“A dark haired man on your doorstep in Scotland is less likely to be a Viking coming to raid your lands,” Q laughed.   
“Any stranger on your door step is likely to bring trouble,” Eve commented to James.   
He nodded. “But the point of first foot is that it is a friend rather than foe, so I think Q qualifies.”  
Q yawned unexpectedly, and James shook his head.   
“You can both stay here tonight. I only have one spare bed, but the couch is comfortable enough.” He instructed them.   
“Then you can get your wish Miss Moneypenny. I’ll drive you to work in the Aston.” 

It wasn’t Hogmanay as he was used to celebrating it, James reflected as he got ready for bed. But that didn’t mean that it hadn’t been a good celebration anyway. After he slept he would phone Kincaid and that would complete his rituals for the New Year. He nodded to himself; yes, this was a nice way to welcome in another year.


End file.
